


Better Living Through Tail Grooming

by cython_killa (AlsaTronic)



Category: Papillon (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Animal Traits, M/M, Vignette, interpersonal grooming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2020-01-04 16:17:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18347219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlsaTronic/pseuds/cython_killa
Summary: In which golden retriever!Papillon grooms the tail of rabbit!Louis.





	Better Living Through Tail Grooming

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this cute picture [here](https://ra-lek.tumblr.com/post/183677771074/do-you-ever-think-about-which-animals-theyd-be). My info comes largely from the "Brushing" section of [this page](http://wabbitwiki.com/wiki/Grooming).

Being in prison is no excuse for neglecting to groom yourself, in Louis’ opinion, but _damn_ is it hard to keep up with. It’s a miracle he can stick to more-or-less a weekly schedule. He doesn’t dare attempt it in the showers with the other inmates, not after the first time he’d gotten attacked. Every moment spent focused on his fur was a moment someone could take advantage of, and he didn’t think Papi would appreciate pulling overtime for the sake of Louis’ vanity, no matter how much he was paying him. Instead, whenever their workload slackens, Louis heads for a secluded area where he doesn’t have to worry about the other prisoners’ prying eyes as he works his fingers through his fur. Papi follows him dutifully, staying at a distance, acting as a lookout.

One day, Papi tells him bluntly that his “primping” takes too long. Louis knows that’s a damned lie; he’s sure it only takes a few minutes to sort his fur out, the most difficult part being his tail. He doesn’t know what Papi’s playing at.

“Maybe you should help me, then, if I’m taking so long,” he says. He doesn’t think Papi would actually try to do anything. He’s so shocked, in fact, that Papi’s already on him trying to handle his tail by the time his mind unfreezes. Louis looks down and finds Papi reaching for it but not actually touching him. At least he’s got the decency to wait for permission (barring the few times in the past he’s swatted at it to satisfy his hunting instincts).

Louis thinks it might not be so bad, letting Papi groom him a bit. He’s got [_brun marron de Lorraine_](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brown_Chestnut_of_Lorraine) in him, which means short but dense fur on his ears, easily manageable. But he swears one of his ancestors must have been an angora with how long it takes to rake through the fur on his tail and ply the loose hairs and tangles from it. On top of that, he has to either twist himself at an odd angle to reach or go in blind and comb through until his fingers stop coming away with fur. No, it wouldn’t be bad at all to have someone help him out. He sighs, and starts showing Papi what to do.

There’s a small pail of water on the ground Louis brought with him, and he tells Papi to dip his fingers in it and shake off the excess. He startles when Papi starts plucking at his tail with damp fingers, not used to the feeling of someone else touching him there. Once upon a time, his mother used to groom him as a sign of her deep affection, but those were days he kept locked away along with all the other memories from his childhood that were too precious to think about often. He and his wife groomed each other, too, in the early days of their marriage, one of many niceties that had eventually died out along with their relationship.

Papi’s touch is rougher than he’s used to, but not painful, not even close to it. He alternates between plucking a particular spot a few times and rinsing the loose fur off in the pail. The sensation is unfamiliar and distracting, but Louis does his best to put it out of his mind and focus on neatening the fur on the backs of his ears.

It takes noticeably less time with the both of them working, which Louis is a little miffed at. When they’re done, Papi tells him he’s bringing a rag next time. “It’ll be easier than combing through that thick fur of yours,” he says. “It’s like plowing dirt!” He manages to get away fast enough that Louis misses when he kicks at him for the insult.

* * *

Dega catches his attention and gestures for him to follow. Like he promised, Papi managed to swipe a rag that was actually clean (or at least, what passed for clean in a penal colony). As he follows Dega to his usual spot, he kind of regrets giving into his canine nature to please. Normally he can tamp it down, not being one to just roll over for anyone. Something about this irritating little rabbit, though, has him agreeing to things he wouldn’t have even considered before. Since being imprisoned, the most grooming he’s done on himself is regular bathing and checking his fur for mats and fleas. He’d never attempted it with Nenette (being a cat, she’d rather jump in a lake than let a dog try to groom her, boyfriend or not), or anyone else for that matter. And yet here he is, about to clean some rabbit’s tail. Again.

He tries the rag a few times, swears, then gives up and goes back to using his fingers. He’s sure Dega is snickering at him, but chooses to ignore it. He has a job to do, after all. This time he goes a little slower since he doesn’t have to prove a point anymore. Whatever the hell Dega was doing, Papi knows he can work faster and be just as thorough. For a moment, he wonders if he accidentally tore out some of the soft fur the last time he did this. He decides that no, he must not have, because Dega would have gotten on his case if he had. God knows the man can be precious about his appearance.

After a while, he looks up and notices Dega is just sitting there. “Done already?” he asks. “Hope you didn’t miss a spot.”

He hears Dega scoff at him. “Of course I’m done. The fur on my ears is shorter, why would they take longer to do?”

Papi chuckles to himself and finishes up his work, happy he could get a little rise out of his companion.

* * *

Louis likes this routine of theirs. He knows he shouldn’t; Papi isn’t his friend or anything. It’s not even much of a routine; the warden certainly wouldn’t allow them to have that much free time. Still, it’s very nice to not have to awkwardly groom his own tail. And since his ear fur is short, he usually finishes early and gets to sit and really enjoy the feeling of Papi gently pulling at his tail, fluffing the fur out. When they aren’t snarking at each other or arguing, the quiet is almost soothing. Sometimes, they even have decent conversation (about life, what they’re willing to share of their pasts, other inconsequential things).

* * *

There is something calming in the care he takes carding through the fur on Dega’s tail. It’s a small respite from the stressful, soul-draining prison days.

He doesn’t think about any of that when runs away, leaving Dega behind in the jungle to whatever fate might befall him.

In solitary confinement, some days it’s all he can think about. His fingers twitch, recalling a sense memory. Running his fingers over his own tail doesn’t cut it, their fur is nothing alike. His imagination and fever dreams are all he has left.

* * *

They have a home now. It’s small and humble, and needs some repairs here and there, but it’s theirs. Even a year in, Louis finds himself occasionally waiting for something, for men in uniforms to come bursting through the door to take all of this away from them. He knows he’s being ridiculous; if no one’s come for them by now, they’re not going to. Papi thankfully doesn’t give him grief for it. Louis wonders if, maybe, he feels the same way.

The brush is a surprise, a small thing whose base is some kind of ivory or mother of pearl with gold inlay. It reminds Louis so much of a brush his mother owned when he was younger that he freezes up with recognition when he sees it. Papi mistakes this for being horrified at what it must’ve cost, and assures him he got it from a second-hand sale. It sits ominously on their wardrobe for days.

* * *

He hopes the brush isn’t too much. Louis is used to Papi using his fingers, and the bristles might be too rough, might pull his fur too much. He’s tested it on his own skin and the bristles seem fine, but Louis is a bit of a delicate flower (not quite so much now, not after what they’ve been through, but still).

Papi gently grabs the fluffy tail with one hand and positions the brush with the other. He strokes slowly, root to tip, making sure to get at all the layers. The sound of Louis purring is quiet and steady in their bedroom, and Papi is pleased he’s apparently doing such a good job.


End file.
